I continue to wonder what in the world hit me. I didn’t see the sock in the gut coming – the sudden sock of grief. Last week, as the ache began to subside, I began more to ponder it – the ache of missing ones’ youth. Why do we miss it at times? What triggers occasional socks in the gut?
Your responses confirm I’m not alone in this. An unexpected catalyst brings emotions flooding in. Call it a funk, a momentary mid-life crisis, an unwelcome attack from the enemy – whatever you will – it’s real. We are not making this up.
Unexpected emotions always trigger lots of questions in my mind. Since when did our youth become so clearly differentiated from our non youth – our youth defined by moving away from all we were once close to? No longer lived but only reminisced about? When was it that people began to move away from their families and those they grew up with? Before this, how did they distinguish youth from non-youth?
And then, what is it that we really miss about our youth? Philip Yancey says “Grief proves love”1. In this case, love of what? Certain people? Freedom? Innocence?
It seems clear there is a thing, or things, to be longed for in our youth, and at the same time, many would say (including me) that I wouldn’t want to go back. I certainly don’t want to feel as gangly and awkward and self-conscious as I did. Youth serves as a stake in the ground that measures the growth we’ve had as a person. Most days we like who we are now more than we were then. We are more comfortable in our own skin; more confident, more forgiving of others and ourselves. And therefore, our relationships are more meaningful. This week it dawned on me that as I was missing people from when I was 18, many of my closest, most solid friendships are those that formed after I turned 18. Those people came along after I made my first step away from the stake and grew with me between mile-marker youth and mile-marker non-youth.
So if nothing else, I think I’m settled on the need, the health, and the richness to be found in moving on. I just want to know where the ache originates, and where to file it when it comes. It doesn’t fit anywhere, it doesn’t make sense. It just seems to be a rude intruder that causes confusion and unsettledness. How can I change my perspective on the ache so that it is less disturbing? So, I ask more questions…
How does God see the ache? And, is this what God intended? Did He set us up for the ache? Is this grief a normal part of our journey as we mature? Does He see a distinction between youth and non-youth? And, will the youth we ache for somehow be redeemed? Recovered?——-alg
1 Philip Yancey, “What Good is God?”, 2010
Please sound off! Even if I don’t know you, I’m interested in what you have to say. It’s good to wrestle through tough topics with others.
Your responses confirm I’m not alone in this. An unexpected catalyst brings emotions flooding in. Call it a funk, a momentary mid-life crisis, an unwelcome attack from the enemy – whatever you will – it’s real. We are not making this up.
Unexpected emotions always trigger lots of questions in my mind. Since when did our youth become so clearly differentiated from our non youth – our youth defined by moving away from all we were once close to? No longer lived but only reminisced about? When was it that people began to move away from their families and those they grew up with? Before this, how did they distinguish youth from non-youth?
And then, what is it that we really miss about our youth? Philip Yancey says “Grief proves love”1. In this case, love of what? Certain people? Freedom? Innocence?
It seems clear there is a thing, or things, to be longed for in our youth, and at the same time, many would say (including me) that I wouldn’t want to go back. I certainly don’t want to feel as gangly and awkward and self-conscious as I did. Youth serves as a stake in the ground that measures the growth we’ve had as a person. Most days we like who we are now more than we were then. We are more comfortable in our own skin; more confident, more forgiving of others and ourselves. And therefore, our relationships are more meaningful. This week it dawned on me that as I was missing people from when I was 18, many of my closest, most solid friendships are those that formed after I turned 18. Those people came along after I made my first step away from the stake and grew with me between mile-marker youth and mile-marker non-youth.
So if nothing else, I think I’m settled on the need, the health, and the richness to be found in moving on. I just want to know where the ache originates, and where to file it when it comes. It doesn’t fit anywhere, it doesn’t make sense. It just seems to be a rude intruder that causes confusion and unsettledness. How can I change my perspective on the ache so that it is less disturbing? So, I ask more questions…
How does God see the ache? And, is this what God intended? Did He set us up for the ache? Is this grief a normal part of our journey as we mature? Does He see a distinction between youth and non-youth? And, will the youth we ache for somehow be redeemed? Recovered?——-alg
1 Philip Yancey, “What Good is God?”, 2010
Please sound off! Even if I don’t know you, I’m interested in what you have to say. It’s good to wrestle through tough topics with others.
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